Beauty stared across the table at the pale, pale man sitting just an arm's reach away. She squinted, mouth pursing. There were tales like that at home and she had read even more in her time in the City, but she couldn't immediately think of any myths that matched what Eric had done to her. She didn't want to sound ignorant, but she didn't know how else she could categorize herself. At length, she took a breath, then said the only thing she could:
"Your pardon, monsieur, but I'm afraid I just don't understand."
But an uneasy feeling was creeping in through her skin and into her stomach, settling like a weight that wouldn't go away. She suddenly did not want the tea that sat gently steaming in the porcelain teacup in front of her.